Mighty
by PervyPanda
Summary: Mighty in mind. Mighty in arms. Mighty in skill. Mighty in people. Tongsen would accept no less. He would forge forth and roar with all his might... even if this wasn't his time. A Self-Insert with a (sort of) gamer system. Warning for (im)mature language, gore, probable sex and rather dark themes overall.
1. Chapter 1: Humble Beginnings

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AN: I don't own Kingdom.

Enjoy.

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**[**Level Up**]**

'_About time.' _I pause my swinging, the blunted metal short sword flopped to my side, and the straw encased wooden pole gained a much needed respite from my constant bullying. '_-Stats-.'_

**[**Level: 4**]**

**[**Muscle Density: 0.4**]**

**[**Bone Density: 0.4**]**

**[**Reaction Speed: 0.6**]**

**[**Agility: 0.6**]**

**[**Dexterity: 0.4**]**

**[**Vitality: 0.3**]**

**[**Stamina: 0.4**]**

**[**Charisma: 0.9**]**

**[**Spare Points: 0.1**]**

I was feeling slightly giddy not bothering to suppress the smile; it wasn't that my stats were particularly impressive (though they were above average for my age), but the fact I was _finally _going to reach **1.0** in one of my stats was an exciting prospect.

I was rather hoping for something special to occur.

With a silent mental dismissal, the menu disappeared from my minds eye. My vision focusing fully on the straw dummy before me once more. I say "focusing fully" because it's not as if the menu takes up my physical view, but rather just _appears _in my mind.

With some practise I would be able to multitask reading the menu and continuing whatever I was doing externally.

Something I am practising wholeheartedly so as to fully abuse the _minimap _function.

In a time period like this, with the occupation I plan on undertaking, the minimap may be of more value than all the other system functions combined.

I block the sun's rays with my practise sword. Well calling it a _sword _is a bit… eh, _generous _shall we say.

It's a rusted old thing. Doesn't even have a point, having been snapped in half 'n' all. There is no edge, it blunted long ago and cracks splayed themselves all over worn metal.

I suppose it was left on some battlefield or another under the waves of weather for some time. Probably caked in blood and mud too.

Little more than weighted scrap at this point, should any adult give it a half decent swing at anything _other _than air, it would no doubt snap at the hilt.

Absolutely perfect for myself.

The seller was on his way to have it melted down for slag but I was able to buy the me-sized practise sword at the low, low price of a days chores for the weapons dealer.

I plod over to the weapons rack (self made), basking slightly as I enter the shade of the high barn walls, relieved to be out from under the sweltering sun.

I place the sword on the wooden rack and then cover the rack and its occupants under a tarp. Though it was shining down unholy wrath _now_, the weather can be most unpredictable.

'_Much like Britain, but rarely ever so cold I suppose…'_

Rolling my shoulders to rid myself of some of the ache, I take a moment to sit in the shade of the barn wall, not at all in a rush to add that spare point.

'_The side of the barn wasn't actually high at all,' _I muse. '_I could have easily peaked over it before.'_

Alas, as a five year old, that is no longer the case.

'_I miss my height… amongst other things… __**many **__other things.'_

Like my beard.

It says something about me when _that's _the first thing I think off, but for the life of me I can't tell _what_.

I guess I've just gone a bit loopy staying here for so long.

I must be to be considering doing what I plan on doing. No one's sane on the battlefield anyway.

Breaktime over, I pick up the weapons rack (really no more that a bundle of twigs tied together) and half carry, half drag the lot into the barn I call home.

Along with a bunch of cows.

'_Apologies for the mess, straw just gets everywhere doesn't it? And don't mind the smell, it's only cow dung.'_

I roll my eyes with a huff as I mentally grumble about my roommates.

… I really have gone loopy aint I?

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'_Sta- eh no wait, -profile- first.'_

**[**Name: Tongsen (Copper Forest)**]**

**[**Title: None**]**

**[**Job: Farmhand**]**

**[**Level: 4**]**

**[**Age: 5(?)**]**

**[**Health: 83%**]**

**[**Afflictions: Slight Hunger**]**

'_Health is never 100% but that's nothing to worry about, it's rare for anyone to truly reach peak condition, let alone lil' old me stuck in the warring states. I'm grateful enough for food each day.'_

Everything looked fine, nothing had changed except my level. I nodded and let it disappear.

The fading glow of dusk painted my barn in hazy colours, there was only the wind outside and the shuffling of gradually dozing cows now.

Legs stretched out in front of me, I rotated a foot a little, listening to the small cracks and pops my ankle makes each round. Then laying back on hay and my spare clothes I pulled up the rattan cloth I've taken as a blanket. Slowly, I close my eyes.

'-_Stats-' _

The mental commands are then made, and changes appear on the screen.

**[**Charisma: 0.9_(+0.1 Assimilating)_**]**

**[**Spare Points: 0**]**

'_Mmm. As per usual.'_ Mentally zooming in on the word _Assimilating_, I checked to see if the time period was any different from normal.

**[**Assimilating: T- 9 hours**]**

'_Normal then.'_ I was a bit disappointed. But there was one last thing to adjust before going to sleep.

'_-Possessions-'_

**[**Focus: 1/1**]**

**[**All: 3/4**]**

I focused on Focus… heh.

**[**Skill**: **Beginner Swordplay Lvl: 3**]**

'_Remove.'_ I commanded.

**[**_Skill:_ _Beginner Swordplay Lvl: 3 _(Removal Pending)**]**

Same as assimilating points, removing skills also has it's time delay. During this period the bonuses that comes with the skill being placed in the _focus _slot is negated, and unavailable to other possessions till the skill is fully removed.

Now I brought up All. Having gained a new level there was now a new slot to fill in.

**[**Skill: Sprint Lvl: 6**]**

**[**Skill: Milking Lvl: 7**]**

**[**Skill: Observe Lvl: 12**]**

**[** _-Empty-_ **]**

First I mentally commanded the Observe skill to remove. It, like the swordplay skill, grayed out gained the _Removal Pending_ sign next to it. As my most valuable skill with the highest utility, it will go into my focus slot and reap all its benefits once more as soon as possible.

The only reason I placed the swordplay skill in the focus slot was to rapidly level the skill level and up my personal level. Once the swordplay skill went from _Lvl: 2_ to _Lvl: 3_, there was just enough exp gained for myself to go from _Lvl: 3_ to _Lvl: 4_.

But that aside, it was no time to decide what skill to place in the newly opened fourth slot.

I mentally "zoomed in" on said slot, and a list of all my skills appeared.

**[**Running**]**

**[**Fletching**]**

**[**Ploughing**]**

**[**Plough**]**

**[**Broken Sword**]**

**[**Long-ish Wood Stick**]**

**[**Hemp Shirt**]**

**[**Sneak**]**

**[**Language**]**

…

…

There was quite a few. I scrolled up and down, just to check if there was any more recently gained, but in the end I found none.

I had already decided on what to add, having thought of it extensively previously. I had especially aimed for and gained this skill ever since I figured out I got a new slot every time I levelled.

Though _language _was tempting, and I do kind of want to see what kind of effect the system has on material possessions like my plough or broken sword… the survivability this skill offered was far too needed.

This skill may well save my life in the future. In fact depending on the bonuses it gains when placed in a slot, I might consider placing it in the focus slot for a while to level.

But I will have to wait and see.

**[**Skill: Sprint Lvl: 6**]**

**[**Skill: Milking Lvl: 7**]**

**[**_Skill: Observe Lvl: 12 _(Removal Pending)**]**

**[**_Skill: Sneak Lvl: 0_ (Induction Pending)**]**

Wait and see till morning…

Gradually my body relaxed, mind now content having finished its business. The aches and dull pains of a hard days worked seemed to melt under the warm, summer-night air.

I curled on my side, snuggling into my hay and cloth bed.

The sounds of a cow tail swishing was the last thing I heard before falling into blissful slumber.

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… _All things considered… life was rather good back then._

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**AN**: Nothing of particular note to say.

Thanks for reading.


	2. Chapter 2: Primary Observations

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**AN**: This is the first sign of those dark undertones come into play. There is a warning in the description, but let me reiterate it.

There will be **dark **corners to this story, they will not necessarily be a focus of the story, but they will be there.. The Warring States Period was a horrific time. This is a time where _might means right_ in its worst possible meaning.

Power corrupts people, desperation lessens our morals and killing damns our souls. Rape, pillaging, corruption, lawlessness and war were commonplace.

This is the Warring States Period after all.

This story is rated **M**, in other words its an **18 **fic. Take care.

You have been warned

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I do actually have a **[**Title**]** to choose from, but I won't use it. Ever. It feels disrespectful, like desecrating the dead.

The title is called **[**Motherless**]**.

Perhaps you are starting to see why I do not use it? It's effects are simple; amplify the effect of my _charisma _on mothers by 10%. I will not use it. I'm not that desperate. I hope I never am.

My distaste for the title itself aside, I find it interesting there is _only _the motherless title. The tale of my birth is not a happy one, but nor is it a particularly rare one.

My mother, and the man she had newly married, hail from a village some ways off to the east, situated at the base of a mountain. I do not know the specifics of said village, but I am told they mostly got by living off of the mountain.

Six years ago the mountain, the village and the men of the village burnt to a crisp. The women were stolen by the cause of the fire; bandits. They were raped.

The bandits were killed; a mix of men from the surrounding villages, and a troop of soldiers that had been tracking the bandit marauders down for some time.

Apparently the soldiers had really driven the bandits into a corner, they pretty much knew their end approached, which led them to do stupid, stupid things. Like burning down a mountain and indulging themselves in the pleasures of flesh, all the while their would-be killers draw closer every day, attracted by the wanton arson.

I was the only survivor of the massacre. A mewling, screaming, fleshy babe, still covered in the blood of my mothers cooling corpse.

Now here is where the questions pop up. Who's the father? You see my mother was a newlywed, she had only consummated her union with her husband mere weeks prior to the attack.

Ironically, this was most likely the only reason she survived long enough to give birth to me. All the other women were killed, either through beatings or to a slit throat.

However a newlywed is something _special_, there's an extra immoral flavor to it… something worthy of sullying properly.

My mother's husband was found in a similar state to my mother, his dead body slumped on a wall next to where my mother gave birth.

His hands and feet had been cut of prior, so he could not run or fight back, his eyelids were also torn off, so he could not look away.

The bandits took sick pleasure in keeping the married couple alive as long as possible. The would have made the husband watch as his wife was defiled.

'_That is yet another reason not to use the title. I will not abuse her memory any further.'_

Back to myself. The timing in which I was born means my father could have been either my mother's husband, or one of the bandits that raped her.

The title being **[**Motherless**]** and not **[**Orphan**]** is telling.

However this brings up another... _quandary. _Such a nice understatement.

I do not possess the **[**Orphan**] **tittle. This means my "_father"_ is likely still alive. The bandit who raped my mother still breaths.

'… _**This will not stand**_…' I thought at the time I realised this fact.

An inexplicable rage filled me. I raged for a woman I did not remember, who did not hold be and I doubt would have ever be able to love me- yet nonetheless, I raged for her.

She did not name me, she did not raise me, she did not feed me, but she was my mother.

**I will avenge her.**

It was one of the initial reasons I decided to go out to war. Gather strength, influence and authority. Track the _beast _down. Murder it to my hearts satisfaction.

But as I grew, I found more and more reasons to remain on the battlefield. Happier ones.

I found a home there after all.

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_Tongsen now six-years-old._

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There was no bonus to gaining a **1.0** _charisma_, or in any stat, I was disappointed discover. Not even a bonus to getting them _all _to **1.0**.

How stingy my system is.

Ah well. I can't really complain. I'm grateful enough to have such a cheat in the first place. I will not allow myself to become spoilt.

I will not complain about lacking a Bugatti when I have been gifted a mansion. I will simply be grateful for the mansion.

'_Umu. That's the way to go.'_

Continuing on with the topic of my system…

There is a reason, beyond the obvious, that I value **[**Observe**]** so much; Its sheer synergy with my system is ridiculous, it's broken. It's the most naturally jailbroken ability in my arsenal, and the one that gets the most usage.

But before that, what drew my attention to the skill in the first place was my systems lack of "help function."

See, my system is only the "barebones.". There's no convenient tutorial, or options bar, or main menu nor anything resembling a help function. The only extra thing was a notepad screen!

Now that's not _too _bad.

I am experienced enough with gamer fics and such to fumble my way through things. Even the effects of the focus slots, timed removals and cooldowns would have eventually been figured out through trial and error.

**But**, it would have taken some time… seeing as the _entire _fucking thing is written in ancient Chinese... or mandarin or whatever other local dialect exits in this time. Point is; I couldn't read it for shit.

That's where **[**Observe**]** saved the day… and I would love to get to that but...

'_Alas we must digress once more.'_

Back in the early days, **[**Observe**]** was my _only _skill. Thus it was only a matter of time till I took the leap and put the skill in my (unknown at the time) "focus slot."

The focus slot function is, as it may suggest, an amplifier. It has various effects unique to each skill, but for **[**Observe**] **it granted the skill an _active skill _option.

'_The types of skill being passive (always on/permanent), active (conscious use/casting) and active-passive (toggle always on/castable permanent) for the kids.'_

Previously it was crappy little underlevelled passive skill, buzzing around in the background. When I stared hard at something the skill would kick in and give a trickle of information about the target over time.

A really, really, really slow trickle.

However I clung to it. Because for some reason, despite being a skill spawned by the system, **[**Observe**] **translated all that information into glorious, glorious understandable _English_.

And when it became an active skill, I finally made some real headway. The effect of the (now) active **[**Observe**] **skill was simply to condense the information trickle into short bursts.

The skill had a cooldown but that was irrelevant due to just how much information was readily available at short notice.

I spammed the ever living shit out of it.

'_Land ho! We're back to the main point.'_

My **[**Observe**] **works on _everything_. **Everything**. That of course meant the system too.

I shall take this chance to formally introduce the affairs of my gift.

Bare in mind the continuing information in the cumulative of six years, and was not gained immediately.

Also these were all initially written in ancient Chinese before I translated them with **[**Observe**].**

Firstly, my stats. Somewhat different from the norm, more in line with the Terror Infinity interface.

**[**Muscle Density**] **= The density of one's muscles. Duh.

_Pro_: Greater strength and power. Solid muscles. Basically flesh armour.

_Con_: Increase in weight. Increase in required sustenance to maintain.

_Note_: Stat does not affect muscle _mass_. Otherwise it's your typical strength stat.

**[**Bone Density**] **= The density of one's bones. Duh.

_Pro_: Less squishy. Less broken bones. Supports any increase in strength.

_Con_: Increase in weight. Increase in required sustenance to heal and mend.

_Note_: Once more density does not mean mass. I am unsure how this stat affects the bone marrow and its production of new blood cells.

**[**Reaction Speed**] **= One's reaction speed. Duh.

_Pro_: Make or break a fight. Pretty much everything. No real reason to not level it at least a bit.

_Con_: Nothing really..

_Note_: Possible hypersensitivity in higher levels? Unsure how it effects higher brain functions.

**[**Agility**] **= Freedom of one's movement. Not so duh.

_Pro_: Lightens you; without compromising toughness. Greater flexibility (primary). Slight increase in body control (secondary).

_Con_: Lightens you; easier to throw around. Not much else.

_Note_: Directly counteracts demerits of muscle and bone density stats. Does not _directly _increase speed, but is a factor of it. Synergises well with Dexterity and Reaction Speed.

**[**Dexterity**] **= Control of one's movement. Not so duh.

_Pro_: Greater precision in precise movements. Greater body control (primary). Slight increase in flexibility (secondary).

_Con_: Involuntary twitching. Not much else.

_Note_: May develop a habit of flinching. Synergises well with Dexterity and Reaction Speed. Does not affect speed. Number one stat for calligraphy.

**[**Vitality**] **= One's lifeforce. A bit duh.

_Pro_: Increase in healing factor. Increase in longevity. Slight increase in stamina (secondary).

_Con_: May become inhuman in highest levels? Terrors of immortality. Can't think of anything else.

_Note_: The increase of healing factor is slight, best not get injured in the first place. Increase sexual stamina. May increase sperm potency? Dunno, I'm six at the moment.

**[**Stamina**] **= One's stamina. Back to duh.

_Pro_: Fight Longer. Sex longer. Slight increase in healing factor (secondary).

_Con_: Nothing really.

_Note_: I am unsure exactly what part of my body this stat effects. Perhaps blood? Lungs? Organs? I am unsure how this might synergise with vitality come the higher levels.

**[**Charisma**] **= One's charisma. Duh depends on what one quantifies as charisma methinks.

_Pro_: Speechcraft given a stat. Ensures survival outside a fight. A sword and shield. Necessary for leading people. Gets girls. One finds themselves becoming a tad more eloquent should said stat reach a surpassing level.

_Con_: May draw unwanted attention. May lead to the life of a male prostitute.

_Note_: Charisma is a broad term. The stat is an amalgamation of many concepts. A force of will, the weight of one's presence, the virtue of one's office and position; it aids the influence one possesses over others. Stat is purely metaphysical, has no effect on the physical; does not change one's physical appearance. May affect animals in higher levels?

_And finally..._

**[**Spare Points:**] **= Points… that are spare. Duh duh duh duhhhh.

The final line of my stat window. Thus far I have only gained extra points by levelling up. There has yet to be a quest, nor have I gotten anything from tilling the earth.

Reluctant as I am to kill a man in cold blood, I do not yet know if one can gain points by killing. I have also yet to kill any animals save a few chickens- the chickens gave me nothing.

As it stands I get a measly **0.1** points every level. Through given reaching the stat **1.0 **was quite the trial in itself, this _is _quite a bit I suppose.

_Regardless…_

When I once more return to the fact that all this knowledge was only possible with the aid of my **[**Observe**] **skill, is it any wonder I want to level it as much as possible?

I think not.

**[**Observe**] **also aptly explained the functions of my "focus slot."

The fact that I only gain a new focus slot every three levels, the fact that possessions placed in said slot gain levels quicker, the fact that all possessions placed in said slot gain an extra function or ability…

_It would have taken me longer than I would care to admit to figure that all out._

But this here, learning the functions of my system, was not the only thing my **[**Observe**] **could do. Oh no, no, no.

I mentioned the skill possessed a ridiculous level of synergy with the system no?

Let me introduce you to the previously thought useless… **notepad feature**.

...

_Dun, dun, duhhhhhhh~_

...

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AN: I'll stop there for today. Have College tomorrow.

As you can see, I do like my details. At least in the beginning I want to flesh things out. This "gamer fic" (if you can call it that) will be a fair bit slower to take off than normal stories in its genre.

My apologies if this irritates you.

But to those who choose to stick around; thank you very much.

The next chapter is already brewing as we speak, not sure when it will get out, but it shouldn't be _too _long of a wait.

Thanks for reading, leave a review, and I'll see you next chapter.


	3. Chapter 3: Take notes

Eight months. That was how long my mother was kept alive. I do not know how the bandits were able to survive their executioners for so long even whilst dragging their "toys," but they did.

Assuming the theory of myself being the rape-baby to a bandit is true, then I was probably born a month or so prematurely. I'm surprised I lived, perhaps my system had a hand in it?

_I am unsure. _

I'm unsure about a lot of things.

Between the "child-friendly" version I was told and the more accurate snippets I hear from eavesdropping, I am certain what I have gathered is not the entire truth.

There are too many holes. Just _how _did the bandits run for an entire eight months, _why _were they allowed to roam free so long in the first place, _why _were the pursuers so slow to chase?

Most of all, why was my mother's home the **only **casualty? No other village was attacked like mother's was. One might presume that was because it was the only place within "safe" raiding distance, but then their following actions don't make any sense.

The burning of an entire mountain, the rampant lust and arson, why they felt the need to so openly attack a village in the first place… none of these actions speak of people caring for _safety_.

The raid was a focused strike, but I don't think it was the village itself that was their objective.

A plot? An undercurrent of politics? A diversion? Meant to attract soldiers _away _from someplace? Meant to attract soldiers _to _someplace? Is that why it took so long for the bandits to be put down?

Was this a _statement_?

The more I ponder it the likely it seems.

It sickens me. I don't understand any of it… no, actually I do. I just don't _want _to understand it.

The implications of the entire incident are not things I _wish _to understand.

That a person could order a fate worse than death to make a point is only the beginning. That is politics; a pit of scum and waste no matter what universe.

But what I truly have no desire to comprehend is the mindset of the "bandits" themselves.

For the incident (the focused attack on only a single village) to have played out the way it did… The bandits stuck to an unknown plot throughout.

Even whilst being cut down to the last.

They never destroyed another village, never strayed from the region, yet also never stopped making _noise_. Noise that others could not ignore.

Though no other village was destroyed, many were attacked; raided for food, the occasional girl stolen, yet nowhere near what happened to my mother's home.

_They did not deviate from that unknown plan._

Were they truly _bandits _in the first place? Could you even call that discipline? Was it loyalty? Maybe fear instead? Did the mastermind have hold of families and loved ones?

How could anyone with such familial love commit the atrocities I was told of? Or maybe they could? Driven into a wall, with certain death approaching, might they snap?

_I am unsure. _

But I am sure of one thing. If this indeed was a plot, a notion becoming more and more possible, then my targets will most likely be harder to reach than I first thought.

I realise just how young and small I am, metaphorically and literally. It is galling. Alas, I lack a more reliable source of information, I lack foundation, I lack means and I lack strength.

This conclusion I have reached is based on a heavily edited version and second hand eavesdropping, yet there is still so much I do not know:

I do not know if anyone other than myself survived that Incident, I do not know if there were any to have survived _contact _with the "bandits".

I do not know who or where the soldiers that killed the bandits have gone, I do not know which villagers aided them, I do not know who found me that day, I do not know who named me-

_I do not know to many things._

The circumstances of my birth, it's prior events, and events immediately after remain a mystery to me.

However there was one thing I know for a fact. From those fuzzy memories that have imprinted itself onto my mind, I recall a certain place.

A ruin_._ Old ash choked my little lungs and only the final laboured breaths of a woman unseen reached my ears. No birds nor beasts. No aid nor nanny.

I was wet and warm, but the floor I was lying on was hard. There were two fleshy walls either side of me, and I had my feet still in the place I came from.

That was my mother. The fleshy walls were her legs, the hard floor a table. My umbilical cord was uncut.

I can never tell when the memory ends, it just sort of fades into dream or shadow.

_My earliest recollection from a time before thought._

I was born in a ruin. A person unknown delivered me. Birth should be a beautiful thing, yet all I can remember was the numbing loneliness and bitter desolation of the place.

I may have been unwanted, but by mother suffered to birth me in that unbefitting ruin. She suffered for nothing other than **me**. She never saw my face, I never saw hers, yet she gave her life for me.

Such thoughts fill me with rage.

I was born in a ruin. **I will bring ruin to all those that made it so.**

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I mentioned the skill possessed a ridiculous level of synergy with the system no?

Let me introduce you to the previously thought useless… **notepad feature**.

_Dun, dun, duhhhh~_

The notepad; a place to jot down thoughts and random scribbles. My system feature is much the same. A blank canvas, lines and grids optional.

Except psychic.

Which is pretty cool by itself to be honest. Simpler and easy to use, direct you might say. Cuts out the "whole pick up a pen- find paper- write it down" bits. And in all honesty, is it not these very processes that stop us from writing more?

_What laziness, such wastefulness no? How slothful we humans are._

But with this physic notebook, all I have to do is _think _what I want _written_, what I want _sketched_, and it is **done**.

How does this fit in with the **[**Observe**] **skill huh? Why am I nattering on about it?

_Nfufufufu._

_First thing_: as long as I will it, _anything _can be recorded on the notebook as long as the outcome is 2D and unmoving.

_Second thing_: I don't have to see it, only _know _it's there, for something to be recorded.

_Third thing_: the **[**Observe**] **skill is "three dimensional" in nature (I'll get back to that).

_Final thing_: I can overlap my vision with the notepad feature to varying degrees of transparency, just like my minimap.

These may not seem like much at first glance, but when you _really _start thinking creatively, the applications are far beyond what you'd have expected. For now though, I'll just tell ya about the most important use I got out of it;

Learning how to _read- _and everything that led up to the achievement.

It starts with a merchant caravan.

Merchants are rarer than you'd think- in the state of Qin anyway. My homeland is still reeling from the decrees of **King **"_God of War"_ **Sho**.

To say King Sho militarised the state is like saying North Korea is camera shy. A gross understatement. At his, and the State's, prime, Qin was a _war machine_. There was a time when damn near **all **men outside the capital were either farmers or soldiers.

Infrastructure, trade and commerce sidelined in favour of supply chains, munitions, and Generals. Qin's farmers farmed so they could feed soldiers who could take from other states to feed the farmers in turn… a perpetual, and _efficient_, war machine.

Great Qin was **reliant **on war.

Merchants, save for weapon dealers, were rather thin on the ground in Qin in the first place due to the mountainous terrain and location, but grew even fewer during King Sho's reign.

Even now they have yet to fully "repopulate", as it were. Thus, out of necessity, the few merchants that _are _bumming around, are multipurpose to the extreme,

The civilians ranked merchant caravans are basically walking convenience stores; food, fabric, lumber, herbs, spices, pets, nails, needles, pretty much any form of miscellaneous needs are stocked, piled and lugged about everywhere.

Weapon merchants are a class of their own and can vary greatly in prestige and trust. There is the social stigma of being merchants of death, but they are also necessary to the State for restocking and repairing an army's tools.

Their "class" depends case by case on the situation and are monitored heavily by pretty much everyone I gather.

The higher ranked, noble backed merchants are the highest rank the common farmer would ever see. They transport arts, paintings, women, salt, refined spices, oddities, silks and horses.

They also, _most importantly to me_, double as an affordable messaging system for the mid upper-class.

_I deviated a tad, but we now get back to the crux; how I learnt to read, the notepad function and the merchants role in it._

During this time period, messages are written on wooden or bamboo slips, basically a segmented scroll. An upper class merchant caravan happened to pass through my village briefly, they didn't stay, we had nothing to offer, nor enough money to buy, but they slept on the outskirts for a day and bartered for water.

Some of the womenfolk that had been travelling with the caravan, for whatever reason, played with the children and showed us some of their wares.

**[**Observe**]** was used on everything I could lay my eyes on while jotting down the organisation of the caravan in my notepad, when I happened to get a brief glimpse inside a tarp covered wagon.

There was a small pyramid of slips piled on top of each other, I of course used observe, thinking I would get the material or making process of them... Instead got lines upon lines of Chinese characters imprinting themselves onto my psychic notepad.

It took quite an effort not to boggle at them as the tour continued.

They were just squiggles to me at the time, but that is where **[**observe**]** once more saved the day. It was **[**observe**]** that translated whatever language my system was written in to English, and did the same here.

Over time, by focusing **[**observe**]** on the letters in my notepad, I was able to get the rough foundation of an English to ancient-Chinese alphabet.

It was at this time that I learnt how to write my name in the local language and the **[**Language: Ancient Chinese**]** appeared in my skill menu.

Though I would see no other high-class caravan pass through my home village ever again, over the course of the next two years I would beg whenever possible to whomever possible to show me the "squiggly lines".

My youth and unexpected politeness worked nearly every time.

**[**Observe**]** was the camera, my notepad the film. I had my very own psychic spy-camera. It was through this process that I taught myself how to read and write, without any formal assistance, at the tender age of twelve.

I studied my letters and characters, my numbers, my speech, my martial arts, my crafting, my farming and all the people around me.

These skills, unheard of in a peasant at this age, were kept secret. Not for any particular reason other than habit really, I was just used to keeping secrets at that point.

_Sometimes I even forget I'm keeping them in the first place._

Nothing lasts forever though, and my secrets, my knowledge that is, would be revealed completely by accident, in the most innocent of ways. Not that I would mind.

It was this misstep, this slip of the tongue that would propel me into my next stage of life.

It was this slip that would see me thrusting a spear through another man's throat in the melee of a battlefield just a year later.

It would see me taking a step forward. Looking back, I couldn't have worked it better if I tried.

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**AN**: Ugh. I'm not too happy with this one. Written snippets over time, this is me organising it. As a result it's very dry, basically filler, but necessary.

On the plus side, the next chapter is already half written, due to all the snippets that I couldn't have fit in this chapter coming together in the next.

The **plot**! is coming, so look forward to that.

Not sure when I'll update next, working on whatever interests me right now, I'll just see as it goes.

Thank you to those liked and favorited, thank you to those who messaged me, thank you to those who reviewed.

Your words spur me on. Thank you for reading.


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